


la cadavra auto-immunisma

by 道 (daoxmu)



Series: One [6]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:00:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26486818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daoxmu/pseuds/%E9%81%93
Summary: A condition in which your immune system mistakenly attacks your body. The cause is generally unknown.
Series: One [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/893775
Comments: 5
Kudos: 8





	la cadavra auto-immunisma

“That- That—!”

As her sister sputters on, beside herself with rage, Justine nervously looks from her to the master. If he notices any of this is happening he doesn’t make a show of it. Justine doesn’t know how he can’t. 

“That dummy!” Caroline fumes, “Let me at him! I’ll cut him out! I’ll- I’ll—!”

“Should we _retrieve_ him,” Justine asks tentatively.

“No.”

Justine raises an eyebrow. Caroline raises another curse.

“Sir, the ruin soon approaches.”

“Indeed.”

“So shouldn’t we,” Justine makes a grimace. Even whispered, the next word feels blasphemous.

“...Intervene?”

Caroline has stopped cursing, less so from astonishment at the madness Justine has suggested but more having angered herself into a case of the vapours. When the master responds, he betrays no reaction to Justine’s suggestion either. 

“Justine, Caroline, our guest is here. Do make them welcome.”

The whole room morphs, and the master prepares a new contract. The show goes on.

‘The Anomaly’ they call them.

It’s not the nicest name, Morgana supposes. Outwardly The Anomaly does not appear to mind, but in their actions they do everything to defy the title.

“Uh… you don’t have to do all that ya know?”

The Anomaly looks up from their desk. It’s not clear what they’re up to, not from Morgana’s perch by the kerosene radiator at least. He’d normally be on Akira’s lap or the bed but the radiator is so warm and well…

It’s not the same.

“All what?” The Anomaly tilts their head.

Morgana hops off the radiator and ambles towards the desk. Upon closer inspection the bits become apparent. Bright, near translucent, wispy blond hairs nestled among the familiar inky black. 

They’re fresh from the bath. The abrasively chemical scents of dye and salt all wiped away, leaving behind a faint scent of mugwort. 

“All the um… changing.” 

Closer still and Morgana latches onto more details. Patches of mottled skin, roots a tinge of brown he’s never seen on Akira, irises that seem to change colour before him. 

“It’s probably better I do.”

The Anomaly goes back to the tin clasps and string on the desk. A long silence passes before they clarify that.

“Everyone’s been so on edge,” they say wistfully, “I’d hate to stress them out further by- by—”

“We wouldn’t be stressed out!” Morgana interjects.

The Anomaly merely smiles.

“That’s very sweet of you Morgana.”

So the show goes on. Even with The Anomaly on their team and the way everyone seems to be walking on eggshells when The Anomaly is present. 

Even with ‘the other guy’ The Anomaly can’t or won’t elaborate on.

The coming election is still a massive issue, so the show goes on.

If their skittishness around The Anomaly upsets them, they don’t show it.

The Anomaly doesn’t show much of anything actually, so it’s jarring when they finally do.

“We’ve secured the route to the treasure,” The Anomaly starts, “why haven’t we gone for it?”

Everyone except Futaba noticeably stiffens.

“We’re…”

Morgana internally groans. Even he knows Makoto’s a poor liar. 

“We need to train more,” Makoto says hurriedly, “it’s important we win this after all.”

The Anomaly, in combat and everything else, is a close approximation of Akira. The Phantom Thieves are more than capable of making up for whatever The Anomaly lacks. 

Except for the calling card.

So once more The Anomaly leaves them with their secrets. Once more they go to mementos to ‘train’.

The show goes on.

Until it doesn’t.

“Something’s wrong.”

The voice from Prometheus comes out tinny, it adds to the odiousness of the statement. Morgana stops his little hop trot dead in his tracks. 

“A target?” he asks. He doubts Futaba could sense something as big as a target without him noticing at all. However he does have a hunch of what this is about.

“I’m not sure.”

“The reaper?” Makoto posits, “we haven’t been on this floor for that long.”

“It’s not him,” Futaba says immediately. “I don’t know, I’ve been getting a weird read for some time now. Sometimes it grows then it goes away.” 

“A shadow?”

“No.” Futaba says again, “maybe? If it’s a shadow then it’s… weird.”

“Could we take it?” Ryuji asks. 

“I don’t know.”

“If it keeps growing… Shouldn’t we find it before it grows too much?”

“I don’t know.”

Futaba never hesitates to warn them about a powerful enemy. Even over the choppy feed from Prometheus they can all hear Futaba making little hums, nervous noises. 

“Never mind, I’m sorry I brought it up,” she finishes flatly.

“Don’t worry about it Oracle,” Ann says reassuringly. “We’ll be careful and keep an eye out okay?”

“Yeah…” Futaba answers, clearly unassuaged. 

The show goes on, until it doesn’t.

Having school physicals in the winter term is odd. Conversely, it’s been an odd year. Odder still is that The Anomaly gets sent back from physicals with a notice.

“Strongly encouraged to get a professional exam,” Sojiro reads the notice to himself then looks at Akira. “I knew it, you’re coming down with something.”

So The Anomaly’s presence hadn’t escaped him either, Morgana had to give him more credit. 

“Get yourself booked in with Takemi ya hear?” Sojiro says sternly, grunting when The Anomaly makes a face. “Nah-ah. You’ve got too much going on to neglect your health now.”

Takemi never lets Morgana into the exam room, never lets anyone in but the patient really, but Futaba is a lot harder to fight off than Morgana is.

Clearly months of shouting and arguing with shadows have prepared her well for the real thing.

Usually an appointment with Takemi doesn’t take that long. The appointment itself is usually quite short but then Akira spends the rest of the afternoon incapacitated from whatever she fed him. 

Today isn’t one of those appointments, so Morgana has no idea how long it's supposed to last. However when patients begin to filter out of the clinic complaining about rescheduling appointments he figures something is up.

Bounding up from his perch on the stairs, he pads through an empty waiting room. 

“He can’t stay here! He… has exams! And really really needs to study for those!!”

“I can get him out of exams,” Takemi snaps. “Look kid I’m no cop. I’m not gonna report these to anyone. I just. Want. To.-”

Morgana stands up on his hind legs to try the door. Locked, figures. He leaps into the reception window to see if he can’t scrounge up something good from the desk.

“And how long’s that gonna take huh!?” Futaba yells. “Just make up some numbers he can take back to school. He doesn’t have time for this!”

There’s a tremble in Futaba’s voice, she can’t pretend not to be a severe shut-in for much longer. Morgana frantically works on his ramshackle lockpick.

“Yeah, he doesn’t have _time_ ,” Takemi says in a tone that freezes Morgana’s blood. “He shouldn’t be standing, he shouldn’t even be alive.” 

Got it. 

Morgana tumbles into the exam room with a mighty crash that belies his tiny body. 

The doctor looks desperate, Futaba is shaking like a leaf, and The Anomaly’s face is carefully blank. 

“Akira-!”

“Futaba,” The Anomaly says gently, gingerly taking her hand. “Let’s go.”

The doctor lets them leave the clinic, but reaching the street leaves them at another hurdle.

“You should rest,” The Anomaly says and Futaba nods, staring into space. 

“Morgana, go with her.”

Futaba snaps out of it immediately. “Then you’re coming too!”

Initially, Makoto is over the moon that a physical has been done. 

“I’ve been telling you we should get them evaluated!”

“Yeah?” Futaba says in an echo of Takemi showing her ace in the hole. “Well this one’s been evaluated to- to—”

“Two hearts,” The Anomaly supplies helpfully. “One of a different blood type. Three pinkies, two on one hand. Three eyes, one in…”

They continue to rattle off the various abnormalities host to them but they’d all stopped listening past the first one they listed. Too afraid to speak the natural conclusion into being.

**Author's Note:**

> writers block is real and strong and not my friend


End file.
